No Regrets
by CountSheep
Summary: THis is a fic detailing when Sanford and Deimos are sent out to help Hank in the Madness Combat Series. It takes place after episode 3 and before Depredation
1. Chapter 1

No Regrets…Yeah Right." Part1

Sanford immediately regretted waking up the next morning. His head was pounding; his eyes were straining against the incandescent light that hung from the ceiling. He sat up and tried to clear the fog in his head. He was on the floor…that could only mean that he had been drinking…again. He heard a chuckle from above his head accompanied by a cloud of suffocating smoke.

"Have a nice nap?" Deimos was stretched out on the couch wearing only a pair of black jeans and dirty boots, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

"Got a hangover…put that thing out…" Sanford stood slowly, working a kink out of his neck. He walked clumsily to the kitchen, whatever you want to call a counter with nothing but a coffee maker and a sink.

Deimos shrugged and took one last drag before rolling over and snuffing out the cigarette on the stout leg of the couch. Sanford's voice rose from the kitchen.

"And this time, use the ashtray, Faggot!"

The smell of coffee was beginning to fill the small apartment, pushing away the stench of tobacco. Deimos dropped his spent cigarette butt into the ashtray that sat on the floor mere inches away from the newly scarred furniture leg. He grinned at the thought of Sanford one day finding all of the scorch marks he had left behind. He stretched his arms over his head, a satisfying crack signaling the extent of his reach. He groaned when his spine echoed the same hollow popping noise. Why had they stopped using the bed again? He almost smacked himself for even asking the question. It wasn't like he didn't know the answer.

When they had first rented the room out, they had heard stories pertaining to couples murdering each other in their sleep. As if they had been possessed by something as the fell to sleep. Deimos and Sanford hadn't put a whole lot of thought into the stories. But then again they had always been accustomed to violence. But after a particularly hard day at "work" Deimos had fallen asleep in the bed adjacent to Sanford's only to be woken up by something (probably his innate survival instinct) and find Sanford sitting on the edge of the bed, revolver in hand, eyes closed. Deimos watched him, for 20 minutes straight, release the loaded chambers, give them a spin, and snap them back in with a flick of his wrist.

After that incident Deimos found couches to be incredibly comfy. Who need some dirty old apartment bed when you could sleep on a dirty old apartment couch?

Now whenever Sanford seemed irritable his younger partner would simply suggest that the stressed man sleep in the car out in the lot.

Was the bed a murder magnet? Who knows, but Deimos wasn't about to risk the barrel of Sanford's revolver on sensible thinking.

As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Sanford came shuffling in from the kitchen. Even hung over and tired, he was a pretty damn intimidating sight to see. 6'5", 185 lbs, all muscle. Broad shouldered and stiff lipped.

Sanford sipped at the black coffee that filled his mug, wincing as the cushion squeaked under his weight. He grabbed the remote from the lamp table and flipped the T.V. stations until he found the news.

Deimos sat up and began to scan the headlines that scrolled across the screen. Sanford reached for the lamp table once again and took a small note pad and a pen. He began to write down names as his partner read them off.

"Samuel…Marcus…Brian…Evan…" when the names finally stopped scrolling he took the remote and muted the T.V. He looked over to his partner who was crossing out names and scribbling new sentences in their place.

"What've we got today, pal?"

Sanford dropped the pad into the younger man's lap.

"They found another set improbability drives. They sent Hank out, but he's been resurrected twice already. They want us to go give him back up."

Deimos read the notes in his lap and grimaced.

"Hank's having trouble? Christ. I feel like I'm reading my own epitaph."

Sanford shot a glance at his partner. Deimos had a gift for predicting who was going to "kick it" next.

But if Deimos was really worried about dying it certainly didn't show on his face. He merely pulled his favorite Zippo lighter from his pocket and began to flick it on and off. His own special way of saying 'let's get it over with'.

"So where is our 'friend' getting his ass handed to him?" he pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack he kept on the back of the couch and slipped it between his lips.

Deimos' words had Sanford on edge. If his luck with predicting death held out…He didn't want to think about it. He tried to shake the thoughts from his head. And as his young partner brought the small flame to the tip of his cigarette, he couldn't help but think how that may be the very last pack he ever had.

But that was the risk when you worked for the "Higher Powers". Sanford brought his coffee mug to his lips and, before taking another sip said:

"Somewhere In Nevada."

End of Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

"No Regrets…Yeah Right." Part 2

The road was long. Almost endless. The tires beneath the car were nearly bare from going for so long. Sanford wasn't sure how long ago the sky had turned an unnatural shade of crimson red. Or how long he had been driving for that matter.

He glanced over at Deimos. The poor bastard was still trying to get some sort of GPS signal but had yet to find any luck. His lap was occupied with 2 laptops, both glowing brightly as he worked. Cords and wires were tangled messily on the floor board, each connected to some type of equipment that found a resting place somewhere in the cramped car.

Sanford was becoming amused at how desperate Deimos was getting just to figure out where the hell they were.

"'Somewhere In Nevada' doesn't cut it, dude. Where in Nevada? Vegas?"

Sanford rolled his eyes.

"Yeah Deimos…All this crap is happening on the Las Vegas strip. It's been all over the news. Didn't you hear about it?"

The young technician shot his partner a glare and resumed his attempts at finding a signal.

No other cars had passed since they hit the dead zone. But every now and then, out of the corner of his eye, Sanford could see a flicker of snowy static flash through the air. Where ever "Somewhere in Nevada" was, they were getting closer. He could tell. The phantom static began to be accompanied by other oddities. At first it was just the radio turning on and off by itself. Some weird station that played only a freaky techno remix of "The Chicken Dance".

At one point, however, the strange happenings took a dangerous turn. Where once there was nothing but flat, endless road, obstacles began to suddenly appear. The first being what looked like a stop sign with a big white exclamation point popping up from the ground mere meters from the front of the car. Sanford yanked the wheel to the left sharply. Thank god he had fast reflexes. The crash would have been much worse otherwise. The pole of the sign disappeared under the back wheels, successfully wedging itself into the axels.

"What the hell?!" Deimos was gripping the 'oh shit' handle so hard his knuckles had turned white. Poor kid hadn't been expecting such a rough ride. His electronics went flying sideways as the car slammed to a stop. Along with his head, which collided painfully with the window.

Sanford, unlike his partner, had nothing to stop his body's momentum, which sent him flying sideways into Deimos' side. The younger man let out a loud grunt at the sudden weight that crashed into him.

Both were dazed for a few moments before the initial shock wore off. They didn't move from where they were for a while, until finally glancing at each other and the turning to look out the passenger side window.

The road, which had been running straight through a desert wasteland, was now snaking its way through canyons. What the hell? What in God's name happened? Did they crash right through the rest of the desert, or was this just some other sort of oddity in the land of "Somewhere in Nevada"?

"Jebus H. Christ…Sanford what the hell did you do?" Deimos was unbuckling his seatbelt, pushing his larger partner back up from his leaning position. He tried to open the door but it seemed to be in a particularly stubborn. He tried to put more force into his pushes by pressing his shoulder into it. Unfortunately 5'11"of lean muscle wasn't going to cut it.

"Dammit…help me out here."

Sanford turned his body so that he was lying on his side and sent the heel of his boot flying (narrowly missing Deimos' face) through the window, the safety glass giving up no resistance. He pulled his leg back in so that Deimos could crawl out and put his feet on solid ground for the first time in God knows how long.

He turned and examined the door. Not even a scratch on it. Why the hell didn't it open? He reached out a hand, his fingertips barely touching the handle. The door swung out suddenly and clipped his outstretched hand.

"OWWW…DAMMIT SANFORD, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!"

"What the hell do you mean? I didn't do anything."

Sanford was crouched next to the back passenger side tire, his hand reaching for the sign they had run over. Deimos looked down at his own hand. It was starting to swell, turning black and blue.

"What did you do?" he stood up and took the man's wrist and gave his palm a few squeezes. No reaction. He moved to the knuckles. Deimos let out a loud shout and punched Sanford in the side of the head with his uninjured hand. Yeah that's where it hurt.

"It'll be fine. Just a couple of broken knuckles. What did you do to piss off the door?" he chuckled at how winced and squirmed at having him squeeze specific bones to find the actual breaks.

"I didn't do anything! The door just flew open!" Sanford gave him a disbelieving look, dropped the hand, and circled around to the trunk of the car. He tried to pop the hatch and found it, like Deimos' door, undamaged but jammed tight.

"Piece of shi-!" before he could even finish his sentence the hatch shot up and caught him right in the face. He stumbled back, a hand at his mouth. Blood was flowing from between his lips. His young partner ran around was immediately checking to make sure he hadn't bitten off a piece of his tongue, thanking god he hadn't. He could have been in danger of bleeding out otherwise. Sanford waved him off , wiping the blood from his lip. He almost reached into the open trunk when once again the hatch came slamming down with a force that could have pulverized his fingers completely.

"See?! I told you. What the hell is going on?" Deimos was rapidly losing his cool.

It was understandable. They had been driving for hours on end only to have the drive cut short by a warning sign that had appeared out of nowhere and now the car was trying to kill them. Who wouldn't be a little freaked out. But the sudden turn of events had been like a sign to Sanford. There was an improbability drive somewhere close by. They were now in the effective area. They had hit border of "Somewhere in Nevada".


	3. Chapter 3

"No Regrets…Yeah Right" Part 3

They hadn't been stopped for 4 hours when things went from 'as bad as they can get' to 'what the hell just happened?!' bad. Sanford had finally wrenched the sign from the back axel and had spent several hours under the car, fixing all of the damage it had inflicted. Deimos used the time to try and set up a radio signal and contact the Higher Powers. Maybe they could tell them what to expect. When the signal finally went through and he asked one of the radio operators for advice the only thing they said was:

"Expect the Unexpected. Find Hank and help him out. Nothing else to really say. Sorry, guys. But it looks like you're on your own."

Deimos was certain that if he could have, he would have walked all the way to HQ and pounded the living shit out of the poor guy they had patched him through to. He was taken from his thoughts of brutal assault by a hand yanking his headset from his head and an agitated voice shouting in his ear.

"I SAID 'GET YOUR ASS OFF THE ROOF'!" Sanford was covered in oil, dirt, and sweat. He looked as though he was on the verge of beating someone to death as well. In order to not be the victim of his partners rage, he began to break down his equipment and slid, with it under his arm, to the dusty ground. He wasn't afraid of Sanford when it came to a fist fight, but he didn't doubt for one second that the larger man would grab the tire iron and take a few swings with that. And that thought alone made Deimos think twice before mouthing off.

"Geez. How long have you been down there?"

Sanford looked down at his watch. "About 3 hours." He pulled a dirty rag from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. His younger partner cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Were you taking a beauty nap? Trust me there aren't enough hours in the day." he laughed as Sanford made a grab for his throat and dodged the hand completely. The two began a semi-friendly game of "catch the ass-bag" which ended abruptly when Sanford finally was able to grab hold of the back of Deimos' shirt. The smaller man's legs flew out from under him and his torso slid free from the shirt. Deimos landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He felt his shirt get dropped onto his face.

"I know you want me, but please keep your clothes on. I don't swing that way."

Deimos sat up and just threw the shirt through the broken window of the car. It was hot as hell and he didn't have any short sleeved shirt. Besides, who was Sanford to talk. He had discarded his wife beater shirt hours ago.

"And you should talk, San. Do you ever wear regular shirts?" Sanford looked up from the line up of tools on the ground and flipped his partner off.

"I've been under a giant hunk of smoldering metal for hours. I think I have a reason for not wearing a shirt."

Deimos was about to shoot back another come back, but something, somewhere had suddenly decided it was time for it cause them trouble. The ground beneath their feet seemed to start vibrating. Sanford's tools were rattling against the ground. And once again the phantom static made an appearance. Only now it filled the entire atmosphere. Computer code flashed through the air. And Sanford swore that he saw the sky actually crack like glass. And before it really started, the "storm" passed. But the two men could feel something. Something odd. The shared a look with each other that said: 'Get the guns."

Sanford grabbed up his tools and released the car jack. He threw both into the trunk (which was now held open by a crowbar). As he worked on loading everything back into the car, Deimos was reaching into the back seat and pulling out 2 Kevlar vests. He tossed one to Sanford, who put it on immediately followed by his gray wife beater shirt. Deimos had already gotten his vest and shirt back on when the ground started to shake again. A shadow began to grow at his feet. Large and square. He looked up to the sky and saw what was casting the shadow.

"HOLY SHIT!!"

He jumped backwards just in time to avoid being flattened by the building that had literally fallen from the sky. He was once again lying on his back. He looked up and saw that he had avoided death by a few feet.

Sanford ran to his partners side helped him back to his feet. Deimos staggered for a second. He grabbed him by the shoulder and steadied him out.

"You okay?" the younger man shook him off and just gave him thumbs up. He looked at the building that was now looming over them. What ever was going on wasn't going to cut them any breaks.

Deimos walked to the open back door and sat. He pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and hastily lit up, closing his eyes. How many times had they been in an area of compromised reality thanks to a God damned improbability drive? He should have been used to things falling from the sky, things appearing out of nowhere. But for some reason the first few incidents of these types of missions tended to shake him up a bit. Oh well. He would be used to it in no time. He took another drag and let it out slowly.

He opened his eyes and was greeted by Sanford's face only inches from his. He inhaled sharply taking more than his lungs would allow and began hacking and coughing.

"Christ in a hand basket! Don't do that!"

"Are you sure you're okay?" his face was dead serious.

Deimos chuckled and waved him away again. Sanford grabbed the hand, making Deimos let out a pain shout.

"THAT'S THE BROKEN ONE! THAT'S THE BROKEN ONE! THAT'S THE BROKEN ONE!"

Sanford glared at him. "I know. Next time you wave me off like that I'll break the other one!." Deimos was about to snap out a snide remark when a roll of bandages hit him right in the forehead.

"Wrap it up, now! We need to get ready for the shit to hit the fan." Sanford was already at the other side of the car and pulling out a Mossberg 500 shot gun from the back floor board. He set the shot gun down and pulled a belt with many pockets and pouches attached to it and began putting it on.

By the time Deimos had his hand wrapped and his out MP5K, Sanford was loading finished loading and completely ready for whatever was going to come out of the building. Deimos threw out his spent cig and crushed it under his boot. He slapped a fresh mag into SMG and slung it over his back. He decided it would be smart to start with his Glock 18c and just switch to the one on his back when it was completely spent. After that he would just use whatever he found on dead bodies.

And from how stressed the two felt. There would be plenty of dead bodies to choose from.


End file.
